


Gift Exchange

by lamardeuse



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-26
Updated: 2010-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days before Christmas, Fraser's mother arrived for a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Miriel in ds_seekritsanta on LJ.

  
Three days before Christmas, Fraser’s mother arrived for a visit.

To say that he hadn’t been expecting her was an understatement. If he _had_ known, he might have put more effort into dusting the windowsills and the top of the fridge, but he also had no idea if she was the type of mother who cared about those sorts of things. His memories of her were hazy at best, and after all, the indulgent smiles and warm hugs lavished on small boys were not necessarily indicative of an adult mother-son relationship. In short, he had no expectations whatsoever.

But when Caroline appeared on his doorstep, her smile shy and unsure, he realized that she was as adrift as he. And so the only thing to do was to smile in a way that erased all doubts, to kiss her surprisingly warm cheek, to open his arms to her without hesitation.

“I didn’t know if I’d be able to touch you,” Caroline said, her voice deeper than he remembered. “Your father couldn’t.”

Ben had no answer for this, so instead he closed his eyes and tightened his hold and breathed in the faint scent of jasmine that took him back to the one time he could be certain of perfect, untainted happiness.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

After dinner, Ben found Caroline knitting by the woodstove, Dief curled up at her feet as though he was doing his part to anchor her to earth.

She held up the square of blue yarn for him to see. “What do you think?”

His instinct for honesty wanted him to tell her he was hardly qualified to judge; aloud, he said, “It’s – very nice.”

She smiled, pleased, and he was suffused with warmth so intense it made him shiver. “I was never very good at it before, but I’d always wanted to be.” She looked up at him, her green gaze steady. “That’s all they give you when you were waiting the way I was – small things like that. Never anything really important, of course, but enough to keep you distracted.” She looked away. “Just enough to keep you sane.”

“Dad tried to find you,” Ben blurted, because inadequate as it was, it was the only thing he could think of to say.

“I know,” his mother said gently. She took a deep breath as though steeling herself. “I don’t want you to be left with small things, Ben. Because in the end nothing you find there will be sufficient to outweigh your regrets.”

“I don’t have regrets,” Ben heard himself lie, and why did this one come so easily? “I’m exactly where I belong, exactly where I’m needed most.”

His mother watched him for another moment before returning to her work. “Perhaps you should start thinking about what you’d like for Christmas,” she said. Her knitting needles _clicked_ briskly, echoing the hollow beat of his heart.

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

The next morning when he awoke to the scent of frying bacon and strong coffee, he became absolutely sure that he was losing his mind.

Returning home after his shift, he walked out to the small woodlot behind his cabin and cut down a small blue spruce whose growth had been stunted by long winters and weak sunlight. His mother strung garlands of popcorn while he placed hooks on the ornaments he’d bought earlier at the general store. They were gaudy things, hideous spangled pink and purple stars that glittered in even the weakest light, the unwanted leftovers of the annual shipment of Christmas stock. Caroline took them from him without comment and helped him hang them on the tree.

“They look quite nice against the blue,” his mother said when they were done.

At that, Ben burst into violent, mortifying tears. His mother didn’t speak, didn’t try to quiet him, simply gathered him close and rocked him until he exhausted himself. He imagined she must have held him the same way when he was a child, but he couldn’t remember ever crying when she was alive. He only remembered the tears he’d shed alone, in the dark, with no one to console him.

_Come on, son._ His father’s harsh, broken voice, every anguished syllable like a slap, a blow, a gunshot. _You must have seen—_

_No, sir, I didn’t! No, nothing, nothing, nothing—_

“I’m sorry,” Ben sobbed, because he truly was, because if he’d known that all she needed was a witness, he could have, he could have—

“I know you are,” Caroline murmured, her hold on him never lessening. “I know.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

On Christmas Eve morning, Caroline cooked flapjacks. Ben sat at the kitchen table and watched her, drinking in the sight of her auburn hair, her strong, straight back, her broad hands with their long fingers and short, unpainted nails. When Mary Kiguna, his deputy, had heard he had a long-lost relative visiting, she’d generously offered to take his shift today.

He had a whole day to spend with his mother.

“You still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas,” she said, still turned to the stove.

Ben smiled. “I have what I want.”

To his surprise, Caroline turned to him and shook her head. “No,” she told him gently. “This isn’t it.”

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

They took the dogs out early in the afternoon for a short run around the countryside. Ben gave her a guided tour, pointing out the natural and the manmade features, regaling her with some of the local legends he’d picked up over the past six months. Her laugh surprised him; he’d forgotten her laugh, forgotten so much, he realized.

It was growing dark when he slowed to a stop outside the cabin. Caroline rose to her feet and walked over to Dief, who looked up at her adoringly. “I’ll see to the dogs,” she said. Ben felt his heart stop.

“I’ll go with you.”

She smiled at him fondly. “You should go inside. Your gift is waiting for you.”

Ben took one shuddering breath, then another. “I want more time,” he managed. “Please.”

His mother’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “So do I,” she admitted. “But this isn’t where I belong, and it isn’t what you need.” She nodded. “What you deserve.”

“Will I ever see you again?” he asked, his voice small.

“One day.” Her face crumpled. “But I hope that won’t be for a very long time.”

Ben took a step toward her, but she shook her head sharply. “No,” she said firmly. “No more regrets – for either of us. Be happy, Benton.” And with that, she led the dogs off toward the small barn.

Wiping his eyes, Ben watched her until she disappeared inside, then turned and walked up the steps to the cabin.

He opened the door to find Ray Kowalski standing in front of his Christmas tree. Ray’s hands were jammed in the pockets of his jeans and his hair was mashed flat. He was restless and clearly unsure under Fraser’s startled gaze.

Fraser had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Hey,” Ray said, a smile flashing swiftly across his face like a shooting star. “Nice tree.”

Ben took a step forward, then another, then another. He raised shaking hands to cup Ray’s cheeks, still cool from the outdoors, blood collecting under the skin and turning them pink.

“I love you,” Ben said clearly, so that there would be no room for doubt.

Ray placed his own hands on Ben’s hips and pulled him closer. “Best present I ever got,” he murmured against Ben’s lips.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

Ben unwrapped Ray slowly, taking time to savour each new square of skin revealed, to pause and give thanks for every part of this marvelous gift. Ray arched and panted and moaned and occasionally cursed under his hands, and Ben realized how much he’d missed that constant momentum, that source of seemingly limitless heat and light and motion. When he finally had Ray naked and sprawled across his bed, decadent and alive, he pressed his lips to the place over Ray’s heart and made a silent vow as binding as any he’d ever taken.

He would never again allow himself to be contented by small things. He would rip apart the tower of regrets he’d built bit by bit, starting here, now.

“Your turn,” Ray growled, pushing Ben over onto his back, applying desperate, eager hands to the task of undressing him.

Ben opened himself to Ray’s energy, letting it in, letting it pour over his skin and seep through into his pores, his blood, his heart. And when Ray entered him a long while later, Ben opened his eyes and watched him as they gave gifts to one another.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

“Ray, what made you come?”

Ray treated him to a wicked smile; Ben chuckled and poked him in the ribs. “What made you come to _see me_?” he amended. “Why now?”

Ray shrugged. “Been thinking about it pretty much since I got on the plane to Chicago,” he said. “But every time I’d talk myself out of it, come up with a hundred reasons why it was the dumbest idea in the history of dumb ideas.”

“And this time?” Ben persisted. “What happened to the hundred reasons?”

Ray shook his head. “You know, I could not think of a single one.” He grinned. “So I bought a ticket before they started comin’ back to me.”

“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you did,” Ben murmured, pressing his lips to the underside of Ray’s jaw.

Ray lowered his head and brushed his mouth against Ben’s. “I think you just told me.”

“So I did,” Ben said, opening his arms and embracing his future.

**Author's Note:**

> First published December 2005.


End file.
